


Who rescued who?

by bythunder



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, puppyfic, vet sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-10-30 06:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10871316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/pseuds/bythunder
Summary: Jon finds Ghost, lost and abandonded, on the side of the road.





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 The truck made an unholy _screeeech_ as Jon slammed on the brakes, swerving sharply on to the shoulder. “Jon, what in the hells!” Ygritte shouted, bracing herself against the dashboard so not to be pitched forward through the windshield with all the rest of the clutter in the interior that went rolling off the seats as the vehicle stopped abruptly.

“There was something on the side of the road. I think it’s an animal.”

“You gave me whiplash for roadkill?!”

“It was moving,” Jon said, glancing back, trying to spot the thing through his rear window, but it was too far back. He couldn’t see anything except the gray-green brush lining the pavement.

“Ok, but it’s still probably a possum. Jon!” Ygritte shouted after him as he exited the vehicle and started hiking back up the road to find it, whatever it was. “Don’t blame me if you get rabies!!” She hollered out the window, but Jon trudged on, ignoring her. He knew what he saw and he couldn’t just leave an injured animal out in the rain to die, not if he could do anything to help it.

A quarter mile on, Jon heard whimpering coming from the drainage ditch. Where is it coming from? Everything just looked muddy and brown and it all blended together. But a shivering movement caught his eye and he saw it. It wasn’t a possum, it was a dog. The most miserable, muddiest little puppy that Jon had ever seen. “Hey little guy.” Jon held his hand out to the dog, but the thing backed away, eyeing him warily, hackles raised. “I’m not gunna hurt you, I want to help.” Spoken as if the dog even knows what he’s saying. Clearly, it didn’t understand though, because it took another step backwards and yapped at him. “I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you? Stay right there.” At the very least, the dog didn’t take off running.

“Are you done playing Dr. Doolittle?” Ygritte asked caustically, her arms folded across her chest and a scowl on her face, when Jon returned to the truck.

Choosing to ignore her scolding, he opened up the cooler by her feet, where it’d fallen when he’d slammed on the brakes, and dug around until he found one of the sandwiches Ygritte had made for their hike, they were supposed to have a picnic in the hills before the sudden storm moved in. He shoved the sandwich in the pocket of his sweatshirt before heading back to where he’d left the dog.

The little pup had inched closer to the road by the time Jon returned to him. “I hope you like turkey,” Jon informed the dog as he freed the sandwich from the plastic wrap and tossed the bread to the side. He crouched down and offered the lunchmeat to the pup. The dog watched him with big red eyes, their focus switching from the meat to Jon and back again. Hunger must have won out against fear because a second later, he pounced on Jon’s hand, eagerly tearing into the turkey slices. Carefully, as not to scare him off, Jon reached around the pup with his other hand and scooped him up. The dog made a small noise of protest but was quickly sated with another bite of lunchmeat.

When Ygritte saw what Jon was carrying, she shrieked. “Oh, no you don’t! That thing is disgusting! We’re not taking it with us.”

“Yg, it’s a puppy. He’ll die out there all by himself.” Jon laid down his jacket on the middle seat to keep some of the dog’s grime from completely ruining his interior. But the battle was lost before it’d even begun, one shake from the dog had flecks of mud spackling everything in sight.

“It’s going to die anyway. Who knows how long it’s been out there? It’s probably got all kinds of fleas and worms. You ought to put it out of its misery and move on.” She wrinkled her nose as she looked down at the puppy and shifted in her seat, putting as much space between her and the creature as possible.

Jon snorted to express his disagreement but he wasn’t about to argue with her about animal cruelty. He knew she’d been raised by hardcore survivalist types, she learned to hunt as soon as walk. Animals were nothing more than food sources to her, not things for sentimental attachments. Ygritte didn’t understand, but Jon could not leave this little guy in a ditch to fend for himself. Scrolling through his phone, he dialed the one person he knew would sympathize.

“Winter Town Animal Hospital, this is Beth. What can I do for you?”

“Yeah, hi, is Sansa in today?”

Ygritte made a gagging gesture in his periphery, finger pointed down her throat. Jon scowled. She could dislike Sansa all she wanted, but there was no one Jon trusted more with animals. He still remembered the summer she was nine, Sansa rescued a family of rabbits that the neighbor nearly ran over with his lawnmower. Yeah, there were a number of shelters he could drop the dog off at, but poor fella deserved better than that, he’d been through a lot already. Jon held the dog steady with one hand as he made a u-turn to head back into town.

“She is. Let me see if she’s available, one moment please.” Instead of putting him on hold, Beth must’ve put the phone against her shoulder because Jon could hear a muffled, “Dr. Stark, you have a phone call. Are you free?”

There was a shuffling noise, then Sansa’s voice came through the line. “Hello?”

“Hey Sansa. It’s me. Jon. Hi.”

Sansa laughed. “Hi Jon. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

“I, uh, I kind of rescued a dog?”

“How do you ‘kind of’ rescue a dog? For fear of sounding like Yoda, you did or did not.”

“If you put it like that, then yeah, I did. I rescued a dog.” Jon looked down at the pup, who had his paws against his thigh, attempting to crawl into his lap. Boy must’ve decided Jon was trustworthy, or perhaps he just wanted to get as far away from Ygritte as she wanted to get from him. She pulled the cooler back onto the bench seat, using it as a barricade between her and the filthy animal. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her extreme overreaction. “He’s kind of in rough shape, I was hoping you could check him out?” Jon didn’t want to give credence to Ygritte’s pessimism, but she was right. He probably did have parasites of one kind or another and Jon couldn’t take care of that problem on his own.

“I’ve still got a couple appointments left this afternoon, but if you don’t mind waiting, I’m sure I could squeeze him in at the end of the day.”

“Thanks, Sans. I’ll be by in a bit.”

“Mhm, see you, Jon.”

“You’re not seriously thinking about keeping this rat, are you?” Ygritte asked when Jon ended the phone call.

“I just want to get him cleaned up. He probably belongs to someone, Sansa will be able to see if he’s been microchipped. He’ll be back where he belongs by morning.” That was the ideal outcome, anyway. But judging from the thickness of the filth coating the dog, he’s probably been wandering outside for days. And he didn’t have a collar. It was more likely that he was just a stray.

“He’d better be…”

Jon hated when she got like this, but he’d learned over the course of their relationship that it was better to just let her bitch and moan instead of trying to engage her. Instead, he focused on the road, and the weight of the shivering little dog beside him. The violent way his entire body shook had Jon praying to whatever gods were listening that he’d be okay.

Jon dropped Ygritte off outside her building, having run out of the patience to listen to her tell him one more time how this disease-ridden mutt was going to do nothing but cost him an arm and a leg just to die of mange in a week. Once he’d slammed the door behind her, Jon drove straight to Sansa’s office. Not caring about the mess he’d make of his clothing, Jon carried the muddy beast into the building and took a seat in the corner, waiting for Sansa to call on them.

* * *

 “Oh my goodness!” Sansa exclaimed upon seeing the puppy’s state. “When you said ‘rescued’, I thought you meant adopted.”

“No, I meant ‘rescued’ as in, I found him on the side of the road.”

“Poor dear,” Sansa cooed as she looked him over for any obvious injuries. “Before we do anything, I think someone needs a bath. I’ll get him cleaned up and give him a thorough check up. You can come pick him up tomorrow if you like. We’re not open on Sundays, but I’ll keep the door open for you.”

“Actually, I’d like to stay with him. If it’s not any trouble. I don’t want him to feel like I’m abandoning him.”

“You sure? It might take a while.”

“Yeah. If you’re going to work late for me, I might as well keep you company.”

Sansa rewarded him with a sweet smile and guided them both back to the dog wash. The dog seemed divided between curiosity and anxiety, pressing himself hard against Jon’s chest for security while keeping his eyes wide open to observe his surroundings. When Sansa turned on the water, he nearly jumped out of Jon’s arms and ran, until Sansa lured him into the tub with a handful of bacon-flavored treats. Once Sansa had won him over, he allowed her to carefully lather him up and scrape the muck away.

“Would you look at that!” She exclaimed as she rinsed the what seemed like dozenth round of shampoo off his little body.

“What?” Jon was concerned, had she found a sore, was he injured, was he sick? C’mon, little buddy, you gotta be okay.

“He’s white!” The more Sansa scrubbed, the whiter he got. “I thought he would be gray.”

Jon looked down and where the matted brown furball had been, there was now a clean white puppy. “He’s like a little ghost,” Jon said absently, running a hand over the sodden snowy coat. The thing that emerged from the bath looked almost nothing like what had gone in.

“That’s cute. Hey Ghost.” Sansa wrapped the puppy in a towel and lifted him out of the tub, rubbing him down to dry him off. When he chomped at her hands through the terrycloth, Sansa set him down to run around the room, burning off the hyperactive energy that always came after baths.

“Once he calms down, I’ll check him for a chip.” Arms folded across her chest, Sansa turned suddenly serious, staring Jon down. “If he hasn’t got one, are you planning on keeping him?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Jon said, looking down at the pup, Ghost, who was now pawing at his leg. He crouched down to rub him between the ears. He was lying, he’d definitely thought about keeping him, underneath his concern for keeping the poor creature alive. He’s wanted a dog for ages, but Mom would never agree growing up, and then he was too broke to feed himself for a while let alone another living thing. But he was doing alright now, and living alone… it would be nice to have something to come home to. “I guess I could.”

“It’s a big responsibility. He’s really young, he’s going to need to be house trained. And dog’s are social. It’s not good if he’s home alone too long. I know you work a lot, is this something you can handle?”

“I think so.”

“That’s not good enough. Jon, this is a commitment. Don’t do it if you’re just going to neglect him. And animals are sensitive, they know when they’ve been abandoned. If you change your mind…”

“I’m not going to change my mind. I can take care of him.” Jon scooped up the dog, _his_ dog, not caring that his still damp fur was soaking through his already mud-covered shirt. He was the one who pulled this dog out of the ditch and he would be damned if was just going to hand him over to a stranger now.

Sansa pulled a microchip scanner out of the drawer. “Let’s see if you even need to, anyway.” She waved it over him, checking twice, and found nothing. “Well, you ought to put out Found Dog flyers in any case. Someone might still be looking for him.” Sansa took the pup from Jon to finish looking him over. He was a little on the skinny side, malnourished but not starved, Sansa guessed about four months old. Most of the fleas he had were taken care of by the wash, but she did have to extract a couple of ticks. Overall, considering the state Jon found him in, he was a pretty healthy pup.

Jon stayed with Sansa the whole time she was examining him. He wasn’t sure if the dog needed his moral support, but he was getting it anyway. Whenever the dog started shaking again or looked a little nervous, Jon would reach over and stroke him, as best he could without getting in Sansa’s way, and talk to him, telling him that everything was going to be alright. In front of anyone else, Jon might have been embarrassed, talking to the dog like this, but he knew how Sansa chattered to her patients, she was the last person who could judge him for this.

When Sansa finished her checkup, she dug around her drawers until she found a spare collar and leash for Jon to use. It worked for one day but Jon couldn’t very well keep carrying the dog around everywhere. Sensing his lack of preparedness, Sansa gathered a few more supplies Jon would need for puppy care. She piled training pads and a bag of dog food into his arms, throwing a number of pamphlets and books on top as she gave him a detailed run-down of puppy care for the new dog owner. It was an overwhelming amount of information but Jon listened to her every word, determined to remember it all.

“If you need any help, don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Yeah, thanks, Sansa. Do, uh, do I owe you anything for all this?” Jon asked, as he shifted his hold on everything Sansa had giving him, trying not to drop anything as he freed a hand to pull out his wallet, all while Ghost was weaving his new leash between Jon’s legs.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.” Seeing Jon was about to argue, Sansa said, “You can owe me one, ok?”

“A big one,” Jon agreed.

* * *

 Once Jon got him home, he was suddenly overwhelmed with the reality of the situation. He had no idea how to take care of a dog! What the hells had he been thinking? The pup –Ghost, his name is Ghost— wandered around, sniffing his way through Jon’s living room and nosing around the kitchen before coming back to sit at Jon’s feet, staring up at him expectantly, but Jon had no clue what it was that was expected of him. “I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what you want.” If it were possible for dogs to get exasperated, that’s exactly how Jon would’ve described Ghost’s expression. He gave an impatient bark and Jon smacked himself for not realizing sooner. “Right, dinner.” He hauled the bag of dog food to the kitchen and poured a healthy portion into a small plastic bowl. He filled another with water and set them down for Ghost, who emptied both with impossible speed and wagged his tail for seconds.

With Ghost fed and quietly exploring his new home, Jon fed himself then settled in to study up on all the information Sansa had given him. _Puppies for Dummies_ , that looked like the best place for him to start. He was certainly a dummy when it came to all this. Armed with an array of multicolored highlighters, Jon got to work.

He was so engrossed in reading about puppy care that he completely neglected the real one currently shitting on his carpet.

A sudden rank smell alerted Jon to his very first ‘accident’ as a dog owner. “Ah, shit! Ghost, no!” With speed he didn’t know he had, Jon sprinted to the dog and whipped him up, barricading him in the kitchen while Jon cleaned up the mess.

Just when he finished saving his carpet, Jon heard a crash come from the kitchen. “For fuck’s sake…” Jon hissed under his breath. The trash bin had tipped over and the culprit was happily lapping up the remains of Jon’s dinner, completely devoid of any guilty feeling. Sansa had warned Jon against using negative reinforcement, but if he was honest, he understood where the urge to swat something with a newspaper came from and it had only been a few hours. But as frustrating at it was, Jon wasn’t about to give up. Partly because he would never be able to face Sansa if he gave up after vehemently declaring he could handle it, partly because, well, he just wasn’t a quitter.

The rest of the evening went a little more smoothly, though Jon made sure to keep one eye on the dog at all times. The next time Ghost made to squat over the rug, Jon managed to get a leash on him and outside before it was too late, celebrating the victory with a handful of Milkbones for Ghost.  

It was past ten when Ghost finally startled to settle down, his curious barks and growls replaced with delicate little yawns. Jon didn’t have a dog bed yet, or a crate, he really needed a crate, but a couple of throw blankets and old pillows made a passing substitute. He built a little nest in the corner of his bedroom and watched Ghost circle and rearranged the blankets before curling into a small white ball. With Ghost settled, Jon readied himself for bed. But he’d no sooner pulled the covers over himself when he heard whining from the side of the bed. Peeking over the edge, he found himself nose to wet nose with Ghost, bracing his forelegs against the bed frame as he struggled to climb into bed with Jon. Sighing, Jon tossed back the covers, picking up Ghost and carrying him back to the makeshift dog bed.

Jon’s head had barely hit the pillow before Ghost was back, whimpering from his bedside. Again, Jon replaced him on the pile of pillows. “Listen, pal. Sansa said we gotta have some boundaries. That means you sleep in your bed and I sleep in mine. Got it?” With a huff, Ghost laid down and closed his eyes which Jon took that to mean that they’d reached an understanding.

They hadn’t, it was only a matter of minutes before Ghost’s whimpers returned. Jon had to pull a pillow over his ears to muffle the noise in order to get some sleep.

It must have worked for a bit but it was still dark out when Jon opened his eyes again. After first, he couldn’t place what exactly it was that had woken him. It must’ve been the dream that did it, something about wolves, he could still hear the howling in his head… Wait, the howling was definitely _not_ in his head. Squinting through the dark, Jon found Ghost, sitting in his desk chair, head thrown back as he let out another _ar-rrooo_. With the moonlight hitting his fur, Ghost was positively glowing, looking every bit like his namesake. When he noticed Jon was awake, Ghost attempted to leap from the chair to the bed, falling short by at least two feet, landing hard before pulling himself up against the bedframe and barking again. Taking it that he wasn’t giving up, Jon threw down his own pillows, making a space for himself on the floor beside Ghost. It seemed like a fair compromise. “It’s always hard, isn’t it? The first night in a new place.” As soon as Jon settled on the floor, the pup immediately curled himself into a ball, snuggling tightly against Jon’s chest and falling soundly asleep.

* * *

 When Jon woke the next morning, he was alone on the floor. Sometime in the night, Ghost finally figured out how to climb into Jon’s big bed and made himself at home among the pillows.


	2. Chapter 2

Two weeks later, Sansa decided to swing by Jon’s house to check on how Ghost was doing. Or how Jon was doing. He’d been texting her frequently with all kinds of questions. _What dog food do I get? Online said the first ingredient has to be meat. He’s eating grass, is that ok?_ It was cute, in a way, how seriously Jon was taking his newfound responsibility. So Sansa went to the pet store to build a little giftpack for the new dog owner. It was too easy to get carried away, she picked out a variety of chew toys and dog biscuits, even printing up a dog tag to add to Ghost’s collar with Jon’s information on it. Should Ghost ever get lost again, he’d be able to come right back home, no problem. Sansa fluffed up the colored tissue paper swaddled around the toys before knocking on Jon’s door. She smiled when she heard Ghost’s protective little barks and Jon muttering “Back, Ghost, back!” before opening the door, his leg wedged in the opening as a furry white form tried to bolt outside.

The scowl on his face softened when he saw who was at the door. “Oh, hey Sansa. What’s up?”

“I wanted to see how you two were getting along. Is this a bad time?”

He hesitated a moment before saying, “No, now’s great. Come on in.” He managed to maneuver Ghost away from the door just long enough for Sansa to slide into the hall. She kicked off her shoes and bent down to scratch Ghost’s soft little ears. He affectionately nipped at her hand before flopping onto his back, exposing himself for belly rubs. Sansa gladly obliged him.

When Sansa glanced up at Jon, that frown had returned, that little crease between his brows that would become permanent if he wasn’t careful. “Are you sure everything’s ok?”

Jon’s face shifted to a more neutral expression. “Yeah, it’s just… –You’re so good with animals, y’know?”

Sansa laughed as she pulled a wriggling Ghost up in her arms, he already weighed more than he did two weeks ago, standing up so she could talk to Jon face to face, not face to shin. “It’s literally my job to be good with animals.”

“Ygritte hates him,” Jon confessed, reaching between them to stroke Ghost’s back. “She just stormed out of here ‘cuz he chewed up her shoe.”

“He’s a puppy!” Sansa said indignantly. “He’s still learning better. She needs to have some patience with him.”

“I think she was actually madder at me. I told her she couldn’t yell at Ghost, because you told me that the negative reinforcement stuff doesn’t actually work, and she started yelling at me instead, saying I was taking his side and knew nothing if I really believed animals had emotions like that, and I don’t know, it all kind of spiraled.” Jon sighed heavily, shoulders slumped and a kicked puppy look that could’ve given Ghost a run for his money. “She didn’t think I should’ve rescued him, she wanted me to leave him where I found him.”

Sansa hated that Ygritte made Jon look so miserable. She always picked the stupidest fights and for some reason, it was always up to Jon to apologize. It just wasn’t fair. “ _She’s_ the one who doesn’t know anything. If she spent any time with animals, she’d—” She managed to stop herself from getting too carried away. She knew she was hardly unbiased, but really, how could some people not like animals?

Jon tried to brush it off, his nobly stupid habit of devaluing his own feelings for the sake of other people. “It’s not a big deal. I’m sure she’ll come around once he’s better trained. We started obedience classes a couple days ago.”

“But she might not.” Sansa apparently lost her filter because even though she knew how stupid it was to get involved in his relationship, she couldn’t seem to shut herself up. “Animals are intuitive, they can sense negativity.” Jon was about to tell her she was being ridiculous but she pushed on. “It’s _possible_ that maybe Ghost knows that Ygritte doesn’t like him and he doesn’t like her in return.”

If anything, Jon looked more anguished than before, which was not Sansa’s intention at all. “So you’re saying I have to choose between my girlfriend and my dog?”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s only… don’t expect his attitude to change if hers doesn’t. Or maybe I’m wrong,” Sansa backpedaled, not wanting to make him any more miserable than he obviously already is. “Maybe he does just need obedience school.”

Jon grumbled an incoherent response, which Sansa understood as an end to that conversation so she changed the subject. “Has Ghost been chewing a lot?”

“A bit, yeah. Mostly sticks in the yard, sometimes the table legs. Ygritte’s were the one shoes he’s eaten though.”

“Hmm.” Sansa stuck a finger in Ghost’s mouth and poked around his teeth. “I think he might be losing his puppy teeth. That always makes dogs chew.”

“That’s not a thing, is it?” Jon asked in disbelief. “Like little kids lose their teeth?”

“Exactly like that. Except there’s no tooth fairy for dogs. Which reminds me,” Sansa set Ghost on the floor and lifted up her gift basket. “I got you something. Or, I got Ghost some things.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Jon said, but that didn’t stop him from digging through the tissue paper to the goodies inside. “You _really_ didn’t have to do this.” There were a dozen toys of different varieties. Sansa didn’t know his preferences yet, so she got Ghost a little of everything. A little stuffed moose, a red rubber bone, a braided rope if he turned out to be a tugger, and of course everything squeaked. As if he knew the package was for him, Ghost stood on his hind legs, bracing himself against Jon’s leg as he tried to inspect the basket. “Ok, boy, let’s see what Sansa got you.” Jon sat cross-legged on the floor and Ghost immediately crawled into his lap to get a better view of his spoils.

Sansa took a seat beside them, pulling out the toys one by one and explaining her choices. Before she could finish, Ghost must have decided which one he liked best because he dove after the moose and scurried across the room. He whipped his head back and forth, tossing the toy around just to chase after it again. If it even looked like Sansa or Jon moved to take it from him, Ghost growled and ran another lap around the sofa.

Sansa and Jon sat side by side watching Ghost play, occasionally throwing the moose to the opposite end of the room whenever they managed to snatch the slimy thing from his maw. “He really is the cutest.”

“Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Stark?”

“Absolutely.” Sansa pulled the basket towards her. “You missed the most important present.”

“There’s more?”

“Just one more,” she said and passed him the little silver, bone-shaped dog tag, already engraved with Ghost’s name and Jon’s phone number. “So he doesn’t get lost again.”

“Sansa…” This more than anything seemed to choke Jon up. Sansa pretended not to notice when he dabbed at his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “The flyers, he still might have another home, someone might be looking for him. He’s not mine.”

“Yes, he is.” She put her hand over his, curling their entwined fingers around the license. “You’re the one who saved his life when every other car on that road couldn’t be bothered to stop. You brought him to me because you wanted to make sure he got the best care instead of just dumping him at the pound. You wouldn’t even leave him alone when I was examining him because you didn’t want him to think you were leaving him. Jon, he’s yours.”

As if to emphasize her point, it was at this moment that Ghost wandered back over to them to inspect what was held in their joined hands. He nosed at their knuckles until Jon opened his palm, showing Ghost his tag. “What do you say, boy? Think you want to stick around with me?”

Ghost sat back on his haunches, chin raised just so, inviting Jon to affix the tag to his collar. “I guess that makes it official.”


End file.
